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3.31.2009

"So," said Peter, "night falls on Narnia. What, Lucy! You're not crying?""Don't try to stop me, Peter," said Lucy, "I am sure Aslan would not. I am sure it is not wrong to mourn for Narnia. Think of all that is dead and frozen behind that door."

C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

I.The earth split like a fallen man's skull,and the burning skies painted every river red.Everything ended. Stars crashed to the earthand lay in the grass smoldering,weeping, mourning their extinguished children.

II.Embers. Dawn. A door in the air.We are all blood and dirt. Through the gate,only silence. If it is teeth and iceit cannot be worse than this day.I step through.

I cannot walk an inchwithout trying to walk to God.I cannot move a fingerwithout trying to touch God.

Perhaps it is this way:He is in the graves of the horses.He is in the swarm, the frenzy of the bees,He is in the tailor mending my pantsuit.He is in Boston, raised up by the skyscrapers.He is in the bird, that shameless flyer.He is in the potter who makes clay into a kiss.

Heaven replies:Not so! Not so!

I say thus and thusand heaven smashes my words.

by Anne Sextonphotograph by flickr user whose name I have sadly misplaced. If this is your image please leave a comment.

Cassandra Barney and I will not be appearing at the Spring Unveiling in Cannon Beach, Oregon this year. Ernst & Ernst Collectors Gallery, our host from last year, has closed its doors. However, Cass has parlayed her relationship with nearby Bronze Coast Gallery into plans for next year.

So! Next year, in Cannon Beach! And with all this time to collaborate, you had better believe we're going to put together something fierce.

3.21.2009

Orion knelt at the tree line. Venus was gonefrom over the barn, and the raw thawing earthrefused my feet. I remembered what I'd heardabout Australia, and how the stars thereare hung upside-down. The winds have changed,but still no word.

3.20.2009

She was stunned at the revolution of every year. Each time a season turned she squinted, surprised. Did anyone believe autumn would come again? And, too, disorientation—she was alive this time,this year, reason be damned.

Equinox and warmer light lefther eyebrows floating, darkin the lake of her forehead. (The leaves are actually changing, the April air does feel like that.)

3.13.2009

TrainsI am seduced by trains. When one moans in the night like somedragon gone lame, I rise and put on my grandfather's suit. I pack asmall bag, step out onto the porch, and wait in the darkness. I restmy broad-brimmed hat on my knee. To a passerby I'm a curious sight—a solitary man sitting in the night. There's somethingunsettling about a traveler who doesn't know where he's headed.You can't predict his next move. In a week you may receive apostcard from Haiti. Madagascar. You might turn on youranswering machine and hear his voice amid the tumult of a Bangkok avenue. All afternoon you feel the weight of the thingsyou've never done. Don't think about it too much. Everythingstarts to sound like a train.

3.08.2009

3.07.2009

Heard more from Isotope this week. No word yet on which issue my poem will be in, but they did mention that as part of my payment I'll be able to order copies of that particular issue at a discounted rate. The magazine itself is not something you'd find in the newsstand or at Barnes & Noble; I don't even know where you'd get it, aside from their website.

So: If I ordered a few extra copies of the magazine, signed them and mailed them to you, would anyone be interested? Your cost would probably be about $9 per copy.

I'll have to order soon to get the paperwork in the mail, but there's no point in having a bunch of copies of the magazine around if nobody wants them. That's just sad. That's like sitting-in-your-high-school-bedroom-staring-at-your-football-trophies sad.

So. Any takers? I will not be offended if there's no interest. $9 could buy a lot of donuts.

3.02.2009

On the recommendation of the program director I just submitted my application to Skidmore's Summer Writers Institute. If accepted to the master class, I'll spend two weeks this summer studying poetry--one week with Deborah Digges, and one with Robert Pinsky.